Where has the Time Gone?
by Sarcastic Texan
Summary: I'd answered the call without looking at the number. A fatal mistake.
1. Chapter 1

I'd answered the call without looking at the number.

A fatal mistake.

"Elizabeth?" I knew that voice. "Elizabeth Rew?"

My eyes began to water. I should have slammed down the phone then and there, but something compelled me to croak into the receiver, "This is she."

I would not cry. I would not let myself cry.

"It's me, Aaron." He says. "Aaron Rosendern."

"I know." I reply in a voice cold enough to flash-freeze Hawaii.

"Oh, well..." he hesitates. "Did you hear about Doc?"

"Of course." I say. "I still work at the repository."

What I don't say is that I am now the head librarian. Martha Callendar had retired three years ago, and the board of Governors had promoted me to Doc's position shortly after his passing.

"That's great!" Aaron blurts out. "I mean, about your job. _That's_ great. Doc is dead. So that's _not_ great."

I almost laughed, despite the grim nature of our conversation. Aaron was as bad at ever at talking on the phone.

"What do you want, Aaron?" I ask impatiently.

"I wanted to know if you'd be at the funeral."

I drag the moment out. Sighing before saying, "I will."

"Okay... I guess I'll see you there. Bye, Elizabeth." he hangs up the phone abruptly, much to my relief.

I sit in silence for a moment and look around my apartment.

Two rooms. A kitchen. A bathroom. Enough room for a book collection, a slightly enchanted mirror, an ornate wooden desk, and the other sole inhabitant of the space and his belongings. He was asleep in the other room.

A few pictures hang on the walls—of me, of family, of Dr. Rust, of Anjali, Marc, Andre, and Jaya—however, I kept only one photo of Aaron, either hiding the rest or throwing them away in fits of rage. I would have discarded the last one years ago, had it not been for Jacob.

My precious, inquisitive Jacob, who'd never met his father.

My poor little Jacob, whose father had never met him.

By the time Jacob was born, Aaron had been long gone. Seven years later, I was still a single mom.

I'd been able to show him more recent images of Aaron, using the mirror.

_Mirror, mirror don't be a bother/Show my only son his father._

Then I'd try to hide my smile as my beautiful son would watch in awe as the reflective surface of the mirror rippled and transformed into something completely different. More often than not, we'd see Aaron lying on a threadbare couch, reading a sci-fi novel or watching a documentary on the Discovery Channel.

Once though, he was at a desk, writing. Jacob had been too young to read the words then, but I remembered them perfectly.

_Dear Elizabeth,_ they'd read. There had been a wastebasket next to him, filled to the brim with identical papers, all crumpled but probably bearing the same line of text in shaky handwriting.

Jacob had been too engulfed in the image to notice me crying.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I know here's not a lot of you out there, but if you could review, that would be lovely. Thanks for everything-Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon, possibly from Aaron's point of view. Anyways, enjoy the chapter! Disclaimer: I do not own the Grimm Legacy, etc., etc.**

"Are you sure you want to come, Jacob?" I ask again, straightening the knot of his tie for the third time.

"Yes, mommy. Doc was my friend, too." his voice wavers a bit and his eyes are watery, but I know there's no point in trying to change his mind.

_He must get that from his father—he's too stubborn._

He smiles, but I get the feeling that it's meant to reassure me more than to reassure himself.

I kiss his forehead and stand, wobbling a little bit in my two-inch heels but otherwise maintaining my balance as I brush lint off the skirt of my black dress and look into the mirror.

For a moment, in the reflection, his eyes meet mine. He has my hair and eyes, but even in his youth he bears the sharp, regal features of Aaron—high cheekbones, a slightly upturned nose, and so on. I'd expected more chaos from a six-year-old—sorry, six-_and-a-half-_year-old—, but he was totally mild-mannered compared to some of the other children in his first-grade class.

He loved to read, loved to figure out how things worked. Sometimes he was too curious for his own good, but I would take curiosity over tantrum-throwing any day.

"Mommy, can I see daddy?" my eyes widen in shock, but just as quickly I realize that he wants to see Aaron's image in the mirror, not in person at the funeral. Because he doesn't know he'll be at the funeral.

"Not today, Jacob. I think our taxi is here." he nods solemnly and leads me out the door to the waiting yellow car at the curb. I tuck him under my arm as we arrive at the cemetery.

* * *

_What a cliché._

Gray clouds have bunched over the graveyard, and the mourners gathered around the site look nervously at the sky.

We slowly make our way towards the throng, me trying not to trip and fall on my face as my heels sink into the loose soil, and Jacob carefully picking his way through the graves as not to step on one.

From what I can tell, most of the attendees are former pages or patrons from the repository, but only a handful are family—distant nieces and nephews I'd never heard of.

We make our way towards the front and stand a little ways away from the casket and the temporary podium that has been set up for the speakers and the priest. Jacob plays with the end of his tie while I nervously comb my fingers through his hair, eyes searching the crowd.

Just as the ceremony begins and my hopes are up, the final guest arrives and hurries across the grass, standing at the back of the bunch and trying to remain inconspicuous.

Aaron.

* * *

Too many people offered condolences—too many are blocking the quick escape I had been hoping for after parting with Doc forever as his body was lowered deep into the ground to be forever sealed in an airless wooden box.

I saw Aaron rapidly approaching me on the right.

"Jacob, why don't you go talk with Aunty Anjali—she hasn't gotten to see you in a long time." I say quickly, pointing in the direction I'd last seen the Indian beauty and her husband. Jacob nods and disappears into the herd of black-clad people heading slowly towards the gates.

In the blink of an eye, Aaron is at my side. "Elizabeth... Uh, hi." he stutters. I take a deep breath before turning to face him.

I try to muster a small smile, although I'm sure my eyes are still filled with cold malice as soon as I see his friendly grin drop.

"I liked what you said about Doc." he says, referring to the few tear-stained words I'd managed to say about Doctor Rust during the ceremony.

"Thanks. It came from the heart." This was the standard response I'd given to the other mourners who'd approached me with the same compliment. A steady silence now lingered between us.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but I beat him to it.

"Cut the crap, Aaron—what do you want?"

He looks taken aback. "Geez, Elizabeth. Look I'm... I just... I'm sorry I left."

I glare at him. "'Sorry' doesn't fix something that happened seven years ago." I say. I start to walk away, fully intending to turn my back on Aaron for good, but he follows.

"I know I can't fix what happened, but Elizabeth I never stopped thinking about you. I still love you!" he reaches out and grabs hold of my shoulder, successfully spinning me around and making me lose my balance. Before I fall over, he catches me and I find myself staring deeply into his eyes. "Elizabeth, I still love you." he repeats, his voice now low, tender.

Once upon a time, that would have melted me. I would have breathlessly declared my love for him back and kissed him on the spot—but that was seven years ago. That was before he left me for a college career that would never work out.

I wanted to slap him, but all I can manage to do is say, "Stay away from me, you bastard." before tearing myself out of his grip and ducking into the crowd.

A few minutes later, I spot Anjali and Marc making their way towards the exit.

"Hey!" I say, catching up to the couple. "Where's Jacob?"

Anjali looks confused. "He said he was going to go find you—about five minutes ago."

My eyes widen. "Jacob!" I yell, turning back towards the thinning cluster of people in the graveyard. I discard my heels and run towards them. "Jacob? Jacob!" my voice is high and frantic now.

As I turn this way and that, I catch sight of a familiar blond boy chatting with one of the adults.

I rush forward. "Jacob Wells Rew do you have any idea how much you scared me?" I'm close to tears now and kneel to the ground and gather him into my arms.

"I'm sorry, mommy." he says, sounding surprised. "I was just talking with the nice man. I couldn't find you and he was trying to help."

I slide my hand into my son's and stand up sighing in relief.

"Thank goodness you're alright." I start to address the gentleman. "Thanks for the help but—" But then I look at him.

Of course. Of course it had to be _him_.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own the Grimm Legacy...**

_Should people look beautiful when they're in mourning?_

I think this to myself as I see Elizabeth Rew across the lawn, wearing a black dress that hugs her curves in all the right places and heels that make her legs look miles longer. Her hair is streaming down her back in soft waves.

She stands in front of the crowd and says a few perfect things about Rust—how "words can't even begin to describe how remarkable he really was"—and as she steps away from the podium, I see a tear slide down her cheek.

I've only seen Elizabeth cry twice before, and I cringe as I realize that it was because of me on both counts.

But that's in the past.

I didn't come all the way to New York just to say a final goodbye to the greatest man to ever live—no, I've come to win her back.

Because I still love her. Because it's taken me seven horrible years without her to realize how much I need her, and if I wait any longer...

No. I won't wait. Not anymore. I _need_ Elizabeth Rew.

* * *

A slap in the face would have been a lot better than those final words she'd said as her eyes bore deep into mine and stared at me straight in the soul.

The scene had played out a lot better in my head.

* * *

I'm still in the graveyard, looking sadly over Doc's grave when I feel something pull at my sleeve.

I look down into the eyes of an angel. He can't be more than five or six years old.

"Excuse me mister." he says. "Can you help me find my mommy?"

I muster a smile. "Sure thing, kid. What's your name?"

"I'm Jacob."

"I'm Aaron."

We shake hands.

I look around. "Do you remember what your mom was wearing?"

He thinks for a moment. "Black."

"Okay. Do you—"

I'm cut off by the loud, shrill voice of a frantic woman.

"Jacob Wells Rew do you have any idea how much you scared me?!"

A familiar petite blonde figure crashes to the ground and gathers the child into her arms.

The moment that follows is a blur, because all I remember is my heart breaking as I think, _Elizabeth Rew has a son._

* * *

"Thanks for the help but—" she seems shocked when she realizes it's _me_, but recovers quickly. "But we need to get going."

She tugs her son towards the gates, and it takes me a full second to run after them.

"Elizabeth!" I catch up with her in a few strides, although she never slows down. "Shouldn't we talk about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Aaron." she says in a hushed voice, clearly trying to keep our conversation from the Jacob's ears.

"Please, Elizabeth?"

Something in my voice makes her stop. She turns to me slowly, her face unreadable, and says, "Okay. Wait here."

She leads Jacob away and comes back a few minutes later, alone.

Without a word we go to the curb, where we climb into a taxi and head to a coffee shop nearby.


	4. Chapter 4

"Where are we going, Aunty Anjali?" Jacob asked, excitement in his voice.

Anjali grinned widely. "Your mommy told us we could take you to lunch, and then I was thinking we could visit the—"

"The Repository?!"

Anjali laughed and nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want."

From the driver's seat, Marc glanced at his wife. Though her smile could light up a room, her eyes were hollow and sad.

He knew what she was thinking, and he reached across the car and took her hand, lacing his fingers into hers.

"Uncle Marc, tell me the story of when mommy and daddy and you saved Anjali from the witch."

Anjali smiled. _He's definitely Elizabeth's son._ She thought. _So inquisitive and thoughtful for his age. How could he be Aaron's son, too?_

Anjali had never approved of Elizabeth's relationship with Aaron, and him leaving her with a child had only led the Indian beauty to dislike Aaron even more.

Though they weren't related by blood, Jacob still thought of the Merrits as family, and Marc and Anjali were just happy that Elizabeth shared her son with him.

After two miscarriages, the couple had found out they were very nearly sterile and had decided to stop trying for a child.

Anjali rested her head back on the seat and held Marc's hand a little tighter, listening to the same story she'd heard a thousand times of how her knight in shining armor had rescued her for the first time.

_He would have been so good with our kids_. She thought sadly.

Now, as the closest thing they had to a son sat in the backseat, all Anjali could think was, _He may not have a father, but at least he's got us._


End file.
